


The Right House

by Caveat_Lector



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7995547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caveat_Lector/pseuds/Caveat_Lector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the wrong house is exactly the right house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right House

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fan_flashworks 'House' challenge. Not a point of view I've tried writing before, I have to say!

Footsteps clatter up the steps to his front door, but it's hardly worth paying attention to that. The loud, artificial voice is hard to block out, however. 

"Sorry I'm so late, you must think me terribly rude."

Yes, he does. The agent humans invariably are, on the rare occasions they stop by. This one has traipsed mud and snow in before, and from the chill he feels must be doing so again. At least they never get further than the hallway when they bring visitors.

"… and this is the dining room, one of the largest--"

He sighs then, weary that they are going to play this pointless game again after all these years, and floorboards creak somewhere in the attic. He rouses from his long sleep one drawn-back drape at a time, dust sparkling in the rays of light and settling in his darkest corners. It tickles, but nobody bothered to make him presentable before this visit and he doubts they will for the next one either. 

He's pleased to see the visiting humans at least wiped their feet on his mat. Manners are so rare these days.

"… the kitchen has been completely remodelled, though the cellar--"

"That's where he--"

"I'm afraid so."

Always dwelling on how the squishy human made other squishy humans leak all over the place. It cleaned up after itself, and kept everything sparkly and tidy. There was no dust here then. Just music and parties and conversation. And tension. That delicious tension he could feel in the depths of his cellar when the human was enjoying itself after the parties and conversations were over.

"Did you feel that?"

One of the humans, the one with glasses on its face, peers into corners and up into the high ceilings. No fear, just curiosity. Interesting. 

"The history of the house is reflected in the price--" The agent human's sharp heels squeak and scrape on his beautiful flooring, and he's gratified to see glasses human wince at the sound too.

"I assure you, the price is not an issue." He likes the other human's confidence; it's as sharp as its suit. When you're only made of blood and meat you need armour. His previous human hadn't had quite enough.

"And it's not like anyone will think you're serial killers just because one owned it fifteen years ago." The agent human laughs, but it's pitched a little too high, and the responding chuckles are merely polite, just for show.

"Wouldn't that be amusing?" The visiting humans look at each other, and there's something about the way they regard the agent that reminds him-- oh.

"Plenty of room for a piano," says the one with the glasses. "You can teach me some more Bach."

The well-dressed one pulls the glasses human closer. There's a tension between them too, a delicious one he can feel down to his foundations.

"I think I will teach you a lot of things here," it whispers, too low for the sound to carry, but the agent human shivers all the same. With good reason, he thinks.

There's something about them that makes him want to pull his drapes shut around them, to lock his doors tightly and keep them here right now. But if they make the agent human leak all over him today, he may as well settle for being alone for another decade or two. 

Instead he lets the sun's warmth follow them through the bathrooms and bedrooms, lets the water run smoothly through his pipes when the confident human handles his plumbing, softens the creaks on the stairs to a gentle acknowledgement of their presence. The agent human is almost as relaxed as the visiting ones by the time they return to the hallway. 

He doesn't even need to listen, he knows they will be back. And maybe people with the arrogance to hide in plain sight in a house with his history will have enough armour to stick around for a while.

"—and you must celebrate with us," glasses is saying when he tunes back in.

"Yes," the smartly-dressed one says, taking the agent human's hand. He can feel the chill from that one like a refreshing breeze blowing out the dust and cobwebs from all his most neglected corners, but the agent doesn't seem to notice. "As soon as we're settled, we'd love to have you for dinner."


End file.
